The Demon and the Dragon
by Aini NuFire
Summary: Dragon AU - When Meg is kidnapped by a fierce dragon and spirited away to a lost island, her only thoughts are on survival and escape. Which is complicated by the blue-eyed man who also seems to be a prisoner of the beast. Of course a demon with a heart would end up charming a dragon with a soul.
1. Part I

**A/N: This fic is inspired by the movie _On Drakon_ , but while a few details will be similar, there are also many that are going to diverge significantly from the film (which I totally recommend watching!).**

 **Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ and _On Drakon_ aren't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!**

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Part I

Meg struggled against the ropes lashing her to the mast of the small boat. Curses for having wandered into a town where there were hunters. And, okay, maybe she shouldn't have drawn attention to herself by killing that drunken lout behind the tavern, but he _had_ tried to force himself on her. A girl had the right to defend herself.

A girl, not a demon, apparently.

Meg scowled at the villagers as they gathered around the shoreline to see her set ablaze. Holy oil had been poured into the bottom of the boat, and one of the hunters stood on the edge of the dock, idly rubbing a flint between his fingers. Hard, hazel-green eyes glared at her.

Meg lifted her chin. "Buy a girl a drink first, wouldn't you?"

The hunter smirked humorlessly, breath puffing out white in the chilled air. "I saw what happened to the last guy who bought you a drink. Sam," he called over his shoulder.

The other hunter, taller and with longer hair reaching his shoulders, pushed his way through the crowd, carrying a stick of wood with oil-soaked linen wrapped around one end, ready to be lit with fire. Behind him, low voices began to rise up in a haunting tune.

The first hunter quirked a brow at them. "What the hell are they doing?"

"The Ritual Song," Sam Winchester replied. Their reputation preceded them, and Meg unfortunately knew all about the brothers. It wasn't just any hunter who could snare her.

" _Why_?" Dean asked.

Sam glanced over at the villagers. "Uh, well, it's part of sending a maid out on the water as a sacrifice…"

"She's not a sacrifice," Dean said at the same time Meg retorted with,

"I'm not a maid."

Sam just shrugged. "It's tradition. The chieftain insisted."

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered, "It's a stupid song. And there aren't any dragons left anyway."

The baritone voices rose in cadence, and Dean planted his boot on the lip of the boat to shove it off. Meg struggled harder against her bindings, but she was over open water now, slowly drifting out. If she thrashed hard enough, she could probably tip the small craft, but then she'd just be stuck upside down breathing in freezing water. Also not an appealing option. Neither was burning at the stake, though.

Mist curled around the edges of the bay, frosted snow lining the embankments. On the dock, Dean Winchester struck the flint over the torch his brother held. Sparks landed on the linen and lit it up with a whoosh. Meg tensed.

And then a gust of frigid air burst through the harbor like a northeasterly howl. The torch was extinguished in one breath, and the mist around the bay retreated into crevices and crannies, out of sight. The air was suddenly crisp and clear, and silent as all voices ceased. Something creaked, perhaps a ship rocking against the ice. But then it became a roar descending from on high without warning.

Meg felt the hurricane gale and impact before she saw what it was. The boat jolted as something slammed against it, and then claws were wrapping around her torso and yanking her and the mast into the air. Wood cracked; the bottom of the boat snapped free to fall back into the water with a raucous splash. On land, people were running and screaming. Meg screamed as one of the talons cut through her dress to flesh.

Wind rushed up around her as they gained altitude quickly, freezing air suffocating her nose. Thwacks of giant wings beat the air, and Meg craned her neck back, barely able to get a glimpse of scales and brute, muscular legs before the beast was diving, and Meg was lost in a whirlwind of cloud and mist.

The horrendous flight felt like it would never end, but finally Meg spotted land in the distance. Giant, needle-nose crags rose through the fog, and the island rolled with large humps before smoothing out and around into rocky shores.

Her stomach flipped as they banked upward once more, and a cave loomed ahead, its wide mouth set into the sheer face of a cliff. Meg screamed again as wings snapped taut, bringing them in, and the claws suddenly flung her free. She hit the cave floor so hard she bounced. The talons had sliced through the ropes, though, and she was free of the mast. There was a growl and gust of wind, but Meg's momentum was too fast and hard, and she kept rolling across the cave floor—right over a dark edge.

She yelped as she dropped into a pit twenty feet down, finally coming to a harsh and abrupt stop, pain lancing all throughout her body. Above, an enraged roar vibrated on the air, and Meg flipped over to see a huge black dragon peering in from above, jaws snapping and claws scrabbling at the walls. She instinctively scrambled backward, but the beast was too large to fit down the opening. With another raging shriek, it wrenched away, all sounds gradually giving way to silence.

Meg sat in the dark, shaking from the adrenaline pumping furiously through her veins. She staggered to her feet and looked around. The pit was completely enclosed, her own little oubliette with complementary bloodthirsty gatekeeper. She almost preferred getting burned at the stake.

She took a stumbling step forward, and hissed as a wound in her side throbbed at the movement. She picked at a bloody tear in her dress to get a look at the damage. It was only a flesh wound, a scratch, but it stung like hell. Her arms and shoulders were covered in other abrasions and contusions as well, though most of those would heal. It took a lot to kill a demon.

Dragon fire being one of those things capable of managing it…

She needed to get out of here. The cave remained silent, and so Meg started running her hands over the rocky walls, searching for purchase. When she found a grip, she started to climb. It was slow-going and painstakingly arduous, and she slipped a few times, but inch by inch, she came closer to the top.

Just when she was a few feet from it, a creature came lashing over the edge with a high-pitched shriek. Meg startled and lost her footing, plummeting back to the bottom with a scream. The furry beast, about the size of a medium dog, scurried down the sides of the pit. Big bat ears fanned out from the top of its head, and it had a wide face framed in gray fur. It was surprisingly lithe for its shaggy body, a long tail whipping back and forth for balance.

It landed on the rocky floor and lifted its head to chitter menacingly. Meg frantically looked around for a weapon, and snatched up a loose rock. This thing was no hellhound, but she wouldn't be ripped to pieces without a fight.

"Stop!" a voice called from the darkness.

Meg jolted at the unexpectedness, eyes snapping to the wall on the other side of the pit where there was a small opening she hadn't noticed before.

"Don't antagonize it," the low, gravelly voice warned.

"It shouldn't antagonize me," she shot back, gaze returning to the creature still stalking her, its muscles rippling with anticipation. She gripped the rock tighter.

"Don't make any sudden movements," the mysterious figure said. "Lay down, slowly."

Meg flicked a skeptical look at the dark cranny, barely catching sight of a shadowed face peering in at her. Every instinct inside her was screaming to fight, but there was something in the calm, cajoling voice that made her waver.

Against her better judgement, she gently set the rock aside, and scooted down to lay upon the floor. The wild animal chittered and growled, but didn't lunge.

"Show it your neck."

Meg's eyes flashed to the aperture. Was he insane? Still, she'd already listened to him thus far.

Gritting her teeth and holding her breath, Meg angled her head back, exposing the tender flesh of her jugular to the creature. It grumbled as it shuffled closer, snuffling loudly as it whisked its nose back and forth over her neck. Meg's breath hitched as fangs came so close to grazing skin. But after another moment, the animal backed up, and then went skittering up the side of the pit and back into the upper cavern.

Meg slowly sat up, eyes wide with disbelief that had worked. She turned toward the man on the other side of the wall. "Thanks," she mumbled.

He didn't speak, and she rose to her feet to approach. Most of him was concealed in shadow, but Meg saw a pair of dazzling blue eyes like sapphire stars gleaming in a small ray of moonlight.

"Are you a prisoner of the dragon, too?" she asked.

His brow quirked slightly. Then, softly, "Yes."

"And that thing there, is what, some kind of sentry?"

"Something like that. It won't hurt you as long as you don't try to escape."

Meg scoffed. "Yeah, well, of course I'm going to try to escape."

"You can't," the man said gravely. "You're on an island far out to sea. There is nowhere to go."

"Have you tried?" she rejoined.

He didn't respond.

She grumbled under her breath, and then winced as her wounds gave a fiery pulse. The second fall hadn't helped her aching body.

"Here."

She turned to find the man reaching through the small gap in the rocks, some kind of dark green algae in his hand. Meg gave him a dubious look.

"For your wounds," he said. "It will help them heal faster."

She could heal just fine on her own.

But there was no reason to endure the pain, especially when she needed to be at full strength to escape.

Meg cautiously approached and reached out to scoop the gunk into her hand. It was cold and slimy.

She retreated to the corner where she could sit on some raised rocks, and craned her neck over her shoulder as she pulled her dress down to expose her back. She tentatively applied the algae, and was pleasantly surprised to feel a cooling sensation at the touch that eased some of the sting.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she whipped back around to find the man staring at her intensely. She bristled. "You mind?"

He cocked his head slightly to the side. "Mind what?"

"Staring. It's rude, you know."

"Oh. I didn't know." He hesitated. "You have such a…thorny beauty about you. Why would it be rude to appreciate that?"

Meg didn't know whether to be insulted or flummoxed. "I hate poetry," she snipped instead. "Either put up or shut up."

He fell quiet at that.

Meg finished tending her wounds and then readjusted her dress. When she glanced back at the dark alcove, those sad blue eyes were still gazing at her.

She suppressed a sigh. "I'm Meg. What's your name?"

"My name?" he repeated, sounding uncertain, and his blue eyes disappeared for a moment as his gaze dropped. "I'm not sure I remember. It has been so long since I've needed it…"

Meg arched a dubious brow. Sounded like this guy had been living in Hell. Meg had been to the real place; she wasn't keen on staying at one of its remote resorts. She turned to start evaluating other options for escape.

"C-Castiel," he said after a moment. "My name is Castiel."

Meg paused to look back at him. "Nice to meet you, Castiel. Now, I'm going to get out of here. You're welcome to come with me."

"But the dragon…"

"It can't stand guard up there all the time. It has to leave the island at some point."

"It never leaves the island."

"It did to come grab me," Meg retorted.

"Your people sang the Ritual Song," Castiel said matter-of-factly. Then, confused and almost aggrieved, "Why did they sing the song?"

"Wasn't my idea," Meg muttered, running her hands over the rock walls more thoroughly. If there was a hole into Castiel's cell, perhaps there were gaps elsewhere she could exploit. "And they weren't my people." She hesitated, not one to be ashamed of who she was, but suddenly finding herself uncertain about divulging her nature to this Castiel.

"I'd been sentenced to death for killing a man who tried to rape me," she said. "And…because I'm a demon."

Maybe Castiel would decide he didn't want to escape with her. Less baggage for her to worry about anyway. She didn't need his plight tugging on her heartstrings. She wasn't supposed to have heartstrings.

Castiel was silent for several long moments. "So, there is no one who will come to rescue you?" he asked, sounding profoundly sad.

Meg frowned at the question. "I rescue myself."

"Can you kill a dragon?"

She shrugged, still probing her fingers over the craggy surface of her prison. "If I have to."

Okay, she didn't actually know if she could kill a dragon. Not having a weapon of any kind certainly put her at a disadvantage. But she never let obstacles stop her before.

Castiel had fallen quiet again, but after another moment, she heard a soft whisper,

"I hope you can."

Meg sighed, and turned around. "So are you gonna help me look for a way out or not?"

Castiel recoiled into further shadow. "I can't. The dragon…you're safe as long as you stay in the pit. He can't reach you there."

"I can't exactly stay here forever."

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

Meg narrowed her eyes, and walked up to the hole in the rocks, peering through the shadows at Castiel to take in as much detail as she could. "What kind of prisoner are you? You're not covered in dirt or grime. You don't look half starved."

There was a scuffing sound in the dark and the shifting of shadows.

"Why won't you help me escape?" Meg pressed. Somehow, she didn't think it had anything to do with her being a demon.

"The dragon is too strong…"

"That's a coward's answer," she said bitingly. "Is that what you are?"

"I can't…"

Meg reached through the hole to touch his face, not above using womanly wiles to cajole men into doing her bidding.

Castiel jerked away with a ragged gasp, and then there was a deep, guttural rumble.

Meg stiffened.

"No, no," Castiel begged as he stumbled backward into darkness. A scream ripped from his throat.

"Castiel?" Meg pressed herself up against the gap between the rocks, but she couldn't see anything except a fulvous glow emanating from just out of sight.

A vicious roar shook the ground, followed by another bloodcurdling scream. And then the shriek of the dragon pierced Meg's ears, and she scrambled away from the hole.

"Castiel!"

He didn't answer. The dragon roared again, and then a thwack of wings announced its departure. No more sounds came from the other side.

Meg threw herself at the wall and frantically dug at the opening, trying to pry the rocks away. Her nails broke on coarse edges and her skin was scraped raw, but eventually the rocks began to shift. One fell loose, followed by others, and then the opening was big enough for Meg to crawl through.

The other side was not, in fact, another pit or prison, but opened up into the larger cave. Meg carefully made her way up a slope of granite to the main cavern where moonlight poured in from the large opening into the sky. There was no sign of the dragon, or its creepy sentry.

Meg bolted forward, only to skid to a stop at the edge of the cave exit, as it was a sheer drop several hundred feet down to rocky formations in the water below. _Dammit_.

Before she could turn around, the dragon swooped down from the sky like an inky phantom, webbed wings flapping taut to fill the cave entrance. It belted out a raging roar that nearly knocked Meg off her feet. She pivoted, almost twisting her ankle, and started to run. Jaws snapped at her, barely missing flesh, but the dragon's head clipped her shoulder, sending her pitching down the slope she'd climbed earlier.

She rolled to a stop at the bottom and looked up as the dragon crested the top, belly glowing with crackling red veins. Her heart leaped into her throat.

The dragon opened its maw wide and belched out a stream of fire. Meg scrambled back through the tight crevice into the pit, narrowly avoiding getting barbecued. She flung herself to the ground as the dragon swept past the opening. There was a pause and distant screech, and then the dragon was at the top of the pit again, reaching down with its talons toward her. But she was still out of reach.

With another roar, it banked away sharply. Meg heard thrashing for a few moments, and then the night fell quiet once more save for her ragged breathing. She looked to the fissure in her prison wall, and for a moment felt a pang of regret. Castiel must be dead. Either torn apart or incinerated by the dragon. It was probably a mercy, in a way, to finally have an end to his longterm imprisonment.

Still, it had been…nice, not being alone here.

Not that she was staying any longer.

Mustering her courage again, Meg slowly crept back toward the opening. Everything was still, and she didn't see any sign of the dragon. It obviously seemed to favor the wider cavern up above, so Meg squeezed through the opening and turned the other direction. There had to be another way down this mountain to the island's sea level.

She made her way through the caverns and around to a second opening, soft blue light filtering in. It was smaller, too small for the dragon. Meg spurred toward it. But no sooner had she tasted the freedom of fresh air that she pulled up short. She'd come out on a ledge extending out over the sea far below, and there was still no way down the side of the mountain that she could see. She almost screamed in frustration, but didn't want to alert the dragon.

Claws scraping on stone had her whirling around as that blasted sentry creature came leaping onto the ledge, chittering madly at her. She braced herself for a fight, but just then, Castiel came running out as well. He was bare footed and bare chested, wearing nothing but black trousers. There was not a mark on his body congruent with the horrible screams she'd heard before that sounded like a man being ripped apart by a dragon. And the furry monster beside him wasn't attacking him either.

"Meg," he gasped.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

Castiel's eyes wavered in the moonlight with regret. He stretched out his hand. "Please, be careful of the edge."

"Stay away from me," she snapped. Alarm bells were ringing, though she couldn't place why. All she knew was she needed to get away from this place—and apparently away from this crazy man, whoever he was.

She instinctively backed up a step, momentarily forgetting about the edge. Castiel's eyes blew wide the instant her foot slipped, and Meg didn't have time to scream as she fell, the breath stealing from her lungs in the shock of it. She was plummeting to the dark ocean below, to be either dashed on the sharp rocks or drowned.

And then, as the air whipped up and around her violently, her eyes widened as none other than Castiel came diving after her. With arms tucked in and body angled downward, he gained on her quickly. Then he reached out to grab her arms and managed to flip their positions so that he was under her, all while they continued to hurtle toward the rocks. Meg didn't know whether to scream that he was insane, cling to him, or push him away.

The action was decided for her when Castiel suddenly thrust himself away from her, propelling himself a few feet beneath her. His arms snapped out to the sides as his chest exploded with a red glow that emanated out of his eyes and throat. Meg's heart stopped in horror.

Sparks flew from the veinous fissures that erupted across Castiel's chest, and in the next instant, he threw his head back with a roar, and in a shower of fiery slivers and smoke, the man's form burst outward to reform in the shape of the black dragon.

Piercing blue eyes locked on Meg's as the beast roared and struck out to snatch her between its talons. It tucked her close to its belly, but they were falling too fast, and the water was rushing up to meet them. Meg squeezed her eyes shut and braced for impact as the dragon screeched.

—\\_/—

Dean peeled his eyes against the mist shrouding the sea and all the way up to the ship's deck. Only the sound of water lapping at the hull proved they were still in the middle of the ocean.

Clomping footsteps came up behind him, and he was suddenly dwarfed by Sam's frame, made twice as large with his 'little' brother's heavy fur coat. White puffs of breath billowed out from each of them as they stood in silence for a few moments.

"The crew are nervous," Sam finally said.

"It's just fog," Dean replied.

"Yeah, but the stories about ships that were lost trying to find the isle of dragons—"

"Are stories. And, by the way, apparently so is the one of the dragon slayer who killed the last dragon." Dean huffed. "Because he missed one."

Sam heaved out a sigh. "Dean, seriously, what are we doing?"

"There's a dragon somewhere out here. We hunt monsters. It's that simple."

His brother fell silent for a moment, nothing but the light splash of calm water against the ship to break the quiet. "I've been thinking," Sam said then. "If there has been a dragon out there all this time, it's never bothered anyone. Not until- not until the people sang the Ritual Song."

"Told you it was a stupid song," Dean muttered. "And it doesn't matter. A monster is a monster. For all we know, the thing could have been hibernating, and the Ritual Song woke it up, which means it could attack other villages. We can't let that happen."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said quietly. "It's just…we've never faced a _dragon_ before."

"We've faced plenty else. Besides, it's what we do." Dean glanced at his brother, noting Sam's stern jaw that bespoke his agreement. It was dirty, dangerous work, hunting monsters, saving people, but someone had to do it.


	2. Part II

Part II

Meg stumbled onto the shore, barely making it out of the waves before she slipped on the wet rocks and dropped to her hands and knees. She bowed forward, coughing up sea water. Yet she was miraculously in one piece. The dragon had taken the brunt of their impact with the water, and for a tense, terrifying moment, the current had swept her away into a dark eddy. But she'd surfaced and managed to swim to shore.

This day was just really not going her way, though.

Something prickled up her spine, and Meg slowly turned. Behind her and down in the shoal, lay Castiel, half in the water, half on the rocks, completely naked and apparently unconscious. Pale, brawny muscles gleamed in the moonlight.

Terror and fury bubbled up, and Meg grabbed a large rock, staggering to her feet. She hobbled her way over to the person that had nearly gotten her killed—who had kidnapped her in the first place—and raised the rock high above her head. She'd said she would kill the dragon to escape, and now was her chance. He'd be easier to kill in this form.

And yet, her arms trembled in the air. She gave herself a sharp shake. What was her problem? She was a demon; what did she care about killing one man? She'd killed one just the other day.

One who'd deserved it.

Castiel deserved it.

Or, well, the dragon did. Meg wasn't sure about the man inside the beast. Or was it the other way around?

And what did it matter, anyway? It was kill or be killed in this world and one had to take what they wanted in life. Survival of the fittest. Meg was a survivor.

But slowly, without conscious thought, she lowered the rock and let it clunk on the ground. Shaking her head at herself, she turned and limped to the edge of the shore and peered out into the blackness of night.

"Hello!" she shouted. "Is anyone out there? Help! I'm over here! Help!"

She sagged in defeat, realizing the futility of such actions. Her thoughts turned back to Castiel, because now she was once again faced with the fact that she was trapped on this island with a bloodthirsty predator.

Castiel was still out cold, though, and in fact, the water lapping around his waist was gradually tugging him further into the current. The sea level rose up around his shoulders, then his neck.

Meg heaved a sigh. Okay, perfect. The sea could take him. No muss, no fuss on her part, and she could tackle her problem of being stranded without worrying about the dragon attacking her.

A skittering sound came from behind her, and Meg whirled in a burst of fear as the furry creature came scrambling down the slope. But instead of launching itself at her with fangs bared, it scurried right past and darted back and forth over the rocks near Castiel, whimpers issuing from its throat.

Meg watched in stupefaction for a moment as the ferocious beast from earlier now whined pathetically and pawed at the man's dark hair. It shot her a pained look before sniffling more frantically as the water rose to Castiel's nose, almost completely submerging him now.

Meg spun on her heel and looked away. It wasn't her problem. But the whimpers tugged at her, and dammit, why the hell was her conscience rearing its ugly head now?

Growling to herself, she pivoted back around and stormed over, grabbing Castiel's lax arm and giving a rough yank. Ugh, he was heavy, boasting several inches over her. Her eyes briefly flitted downward, and she felt a brief flicker of appreciation, but quickly shook it off. Once his head and chest were out of the water and the danger of drowning, Meg let him drop unceremoniously on the rocks, and she tilted her head back to gaze all the way back up at the cave. She really should just quit now.

But Meg found herself picking up a piece of sail cloth from a pile of abandoned supplies, and laying it out on the beach. She then heaved Castiel onto it and wrapped him securely, hoping to make moving him easier.

Hefting the end of the sail up over her shoulder, Meg started the long trek up the island, hauling Castiel behind her. The furry sentry scampered along beside her, often bouncing back to check on her cargo and sometimes nipping at the fabric in an effort to help pull. Not that it did much good.

"Why couldn't you be a pack mule?" Meg muttered, then added over her shoulder, "And why couldn't you be a scrawny runt?"

She supposed she should be thankful he wasn't still in dragon form.

"Or, better yet, why can't I just say 'suck it' and be the demon I'm supposed to be!"

Meg huffed and lifted her head to see how far they'd come. Oh Lucifer, only a few yards. There was _hundreds_ left to go. And she was waterlogged herself and shivering.

Meg didn't give up, though. One thing she had going for her was stubbornness, and now that she'd decided to help Castiel—against all reason—she was going to get him up that mountain if she had to toss him every hundred feet.

The journey was long and arduous, and Meg kept up a steady stream of grousing the entire time.

"You could wake up at any time, you know. Not that I want to play with Mr. Dragon, but I'm starting to wonder if your ass is _really_ that pretty to be hauling all the way up this godforsaken mountain."

Castiel, of course, never woke or responded. Meg wondered if she was dragging a corpse around for nothing. Although Sparky there seemed pretty intent that his master was still alive.

They _finally_ made it back to the cave, and Meg nearly collapsed from exhaustion. But she hadn't just saved Castiel from drowning to let him succumb to hypothermia or his wounds. Though she was tempted…

Now that she wasn't sneaking around trying to stay hidden, she noticed in the far corner of the cave was a dwelling of some sort, made of tattered sails and driftwood. Meg gathered her strength for one last haul, and eventually deposited Castiel under the makeshift tent, which was in disarray upon closer inspection. Meg took a few moments to straighten some beams and stretch the tent flap higher above their heads. Then she considered what to do next.

Under better light from the full moon outside the wide cave opening, Meg could see Castiel's torso was riddled with contusions and abrasions. Nothing seemingly life threatening, but definitely painful.

Surely she'd done enough already, though…

She swept her gaze around. There was an overturned bucket, and no signs of water. Meg heaved a weary sigh and turned to the creature. "I don't suppose you can show me where fresh water is?"

It folded one ear back, and then leaped to its feet, darting back to the cave opening they'd come through. Rolling her eyes at herself, she picked up the bucket and followed.

Sure enough, the animal led her to a freshwater stream where she filled the bucket. She also noticed some of that dark green algae Castiel had given her before for her own wounds, and so she gathered up a good bunch of that as well.

When she returned to the cave, she proceeded to clean Castiel's wounds and apply the healing salve. It wasn't out of a sense of compassion, though, not at all. She merely needed Castiel's help to get off the island. The dragon was just going to have to fly her back to the mainland. That was the only reason she needed to make sure he was cared for.

So Meg focused on her tender ministrations, and tried not to let herself think of those sad blue eyes…

—\\_/—

Castiel woke, sore and confused. Daylight was streaming into the cave… Wait, how did he get here? The last thing he remembered was…falling, and the dragon bursting out to save him. To save Meg.

No, not to save her. As soon as Castiel had gripped her tight mid-air, his inner dragon had roared with the desire to complete its task, the one triggered by the Ritual Song.

Castiel swiftly sat up and looked around. All was quiet and still. Peaceful, almost.

But it wasn't peaceful. Not anymore. Not that it ever had been, really. For so long he'd lived in solitude, battling the dragon inside and making sure it never left the island. But then he heard the Ritual Song on the wind, and he hadn't been able to cage the dragon within the cave before the change overtook him, and now there was a woman trapped on the island with him, doomed to be the dragon's victim.

Not a woman. A demon. And yet, her nature did not bother Castiel. Though there was a darkness about her soul, he could see glimpses of beauty within. Upon his first laying eyes on her, he'd thought perhaps they were similar, in a way. Both with evil inside them.

Had she brought him back to the cave? Why? And where was she now? She had to be somewhere, as there was no way to leave the island.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the dark-haired woman walked up, a bucket of fresh water in her arms.

"Good, you're still alive," she said, her tone brusque on the surface but with an undercurrent of something else, perhaps relief. Her gaze flitted down for a brief moment, and Castiel realized his flesh was barely covered by a sheet of linen. Remembering her adversity to when she'd been exposed, he adjusted it modestly.

"Thank you for your care," he said with earnest sincerity. It was an unlooked for gesture from the woman whose life he'd overturned.

Meg shrugged one shoulder and set the bucket down. "One-time thing. Besides, I couldn't let you die. I need the dragon to fly me off this island."

Castiel's expression saddened. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

A flash of ire shone in Meg's eyes, and she angrily demanded, "Why not?"

Castiel reached for a pair of trousers in the back of the tent and deftly slipped them on under the sheeting, then rose to his feet. "Do you know how dragons are born?" he asked.

Meg crossed her arms and scowled. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He walked to the other side of the cave where a large rock with a smooth, flat top sat against the wall. Scorch marks spread out across its surface. "I remember my birth," he said, tone dropping low with sage remembrance as he reached out to touch the altar. "Dragons take women offered as sacrifices, bring them back to their lairs, and then infuse them with fire so that they burn from the inside out, and a baby is left in the ashes. It's excruciating and cruel."

Castiel turned to face her, though shame burned through him. "My dragon's instincts have been awakened, and it would do this to you. Every time I touch you, the dragon burns with primal power."

Meg didn't say anything, but there was a glimmer of horror in her eyes.

Castiel tore his gaze away from hers. "I promise the dragon won't hurt you," he vowed. If he could keep tight control of his actions, he could keep the dragon suppressed.

"But I cannot take you away from the island," he added remorsefully.

"Alright," she said stiffly. "Then there must be another way. These sails, they had to come from ships, right? Is there a harbor?"

Castiel nodded solemnly, and started toward the edge of the cave, silently entreating Meg to follow. She did. He led her down to the water's edge and gestured out at the shoals. Through the mist, great skeletons of ships lay in ragged heaps, masts splintered, hulls shattered. A graveyard of wayward wanderers.

Meg's expression was pinched as she surveyed the wreckages. None of them were seaworthy anymore.

"The sea is as treacherous as the dragon," Castiel said.

She let out a breath, and then drew her shoulders back. "There might be another way. A last resort, but I'm obviously at that point."

Castiel canted his head and watched curiously as Meg searched around the beach until she found a concave shell. She picked it up, and drew a knife from the back of her bodice. Castiel recognized it as from his belongings, and yet he cared less for the stealing and more marveled that she hadn't tried to kill him when he'd been weak and vulnerable.

She placed the blade to the inside of her forearm and made a swift slice. Castiel frowned as blood ran down her arm to dribble into the seashell. Once a good amount had pooled, Meg lowered her head and began to chant strange, harsh words. Her eyes turned black, and the blood bubbled. Meg continued to speak, and Castiel felt the power issuing from the spell.

Then she finished, and her pitch black eyes returned to softer brown. Meg tipped the shell and let the blood pour upon the rocky beach.

"You called another demon for help," Castiel surmised.

"My brother. We haven't seen each other in a while, not since our father was killed during a coup for Hell's throne. He'll come for me, though."

Castiel nodded, torn between hoping that was true, that this temptation would be taken from his island and his dragon could quiet, and between a pang in his heart, a stirring of something he'd long ago refused to let himself feel—yearning for human companionship.

But he knew he couldn't allow himself to get attached.

"Well, in the meantime, you may stay with me. I'll make sure the dragon won't come," he promised again.

He had to keep the monster locked down, for both their sakes.

—\\_/—

Meg had no idea how long it would take Tom to come find her, so as annoying as it was, she figured she needed to make herself at home in the meantime. Unfortunately, that was also easier said than done under these circumstances.

She surveyed the shoddy shelter inside the cave. "Okay, this won't do."

"What's wrong with it?" Castiel asked.

"It's more fit for the dog than a man," she replied, scrunching her nose in disdain.

"Oh." There was a pregnant pause, then, "I haven't lived as a man in a long time…"

Meg's mouth turned down, though she didn't want to feel any sympathy for him. So she sniffed with feigned disinterest and turned away from the dwelling. "Well, then I'll teach you. And first things first, I am not sleeping in this ratty hole."

Castiel's forehead creased pensively for a long moment, and then he straightened. "Come with me."

He led her deeper into the caves to a narrower section with walls that had been eroded into lattice type curtains. Light filtered down through openings in the top and through the various apertures, casting a dazzling array of light and shadow across the floor. It was actually quite beautiful.

"The dragon won't come here," Castiel said.

Meg noted that the place indeed was too small for the beast to crawl its way into, and though she wouldn't admit it out loud, she felt a measure of relief in that.

"This will do," she said. For a starting point.

She then took Castiel down to the beach again to search through the wreckages for supplies to make the place more homey, making him carry the materials all the way back up the mountain.

They found tapestries and dried them out, then laid them across the floor and hung them between some of the walls. They found pillows that they beat with sticks to remove the sandy coating, and eventually Meg had a queenly bed. She also picked through treasure chests for gems and jewelry, making quite a nice collection for herself.

It was a lot of work spread out over a couple of days, but it kept her from being idle, and, strangely enough, she found she didn't mind Castiel's company.

They were bringing another load of salvaged materials up from the beach when Meg asked curiously,

"Are you the last dragon?"

Castiel halted and turned to face her, brow ruminative. "I believe so." His gaze turned distant as he tilted his head up toward the mountain. "I've lived on this island all my life. My father was a dragon, and yet, despite the circumstances of my birth, I always loved the world my mother came from. I was fascinated by human things, and more interested in them than becoming a dragon."

He dropped his eyes to the ground. "But then one day a ship came, and a hunter slew my father. I was so overcome with rage that my blood kindled, and I let my dragon break free for the first time. But in so doing, I activated all the genetic memories of dragon kind. Like a flood, I saw all the brutal deaths of women in order to further the race. I saw death and destruction, both of mankind and my kin as they were hunted."

Castiel lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I realized my father was a monster. That I was a monster. And so I vowed to seal the dragon away on this island, never to leave, never to hurt anyone. My bones will be the last dragon to be buried with its ancestors." He lifted an arm and gestured to the mountain. "This entire island is the skeleton of one of the ancient beasts."

Meg followed the direction he was indicating, and her breath caught in her throat. For the first time, she saw that the sharp crags reaching high into the sky were the great calcified jaws of a saurian head, open in a dying roar. The rolling spine had grown out with moss to create the hills, and around the shoals, the small island rocks out in the surf were the broken pieces of a tail.

It was awe-inspiring and breathtaking, and yet Meg felt a pang of sadness for Castiel, to be the last of his kind, left alone in solitude and a prison of his own choosing. All for being what he was.

She could relate to some of that.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your power," she said staunchly. "The dragon is a magnificent creature, fierce and glorious."

Castiel gave her an odd look. "Yet you fear it."

Meg hesitated. "Well, yeah, when I was looking down a geyser of fire, I was a little alarmed. Self-preservation and all that." She pursed her lips as she considered him. "I'm not afraid, though. Not anymore. And you shouldn't hide yourself away. You could rule kingdoms, you know."

Castiel looked away. "I do not wish to rule. I don't want to harm people, and that is all the dragon is good for."

"It's not like people are so great," Meg muttered. "They're murderers and slanderers, judgmental and hypocrites."

"You're not like that."

Meg stiffened. "You don't know anything about me."

Castiel ducked his gaze, immediately looking chastised, and Meg felt a twinge of regret.

"Besides," she went on. "I'm not human. I'm a demon, remember?"

"Demons were once human, though," Castiel pointed out. "There is still that goodness in you."

Meg shifted in discomfort. This was not a line of conversation she was going to tolerate. Yet when she opened her mouth to deflect, she surprised herself by commenting with genuine thoughtfulness, "Maybe there's goodness in you, too."

Castiel averted his eyes again, apparently just as uncomfortable with the notion as she was.

After another beat of silence, they resumed their haul up the mountain, the moment flying away on the wind.


	3. Part III

Part III

Castiel could not believe the transformation Meg had created in the caves. It had been a tranquil space before, a long-ago haven from simpler times. Now, however, with her touch and presence, so much beauty was displayed around him.

Though none as radiant as the woman who had inspired it.

And though she had been terse at first, gradually that hardened exterior melted away, and Meg's attitude toward Castiel softened. They would sit in the decorated cave and talk for hours upon end. Meg would show him the various items they'd collected, explain their uses and the human things related to them. It rekindled his love for his human mother's world.

In turn, he showed her the secret places of his island: the glistering pools in the crook of the mountain's neck where they went for a refreshing swim, the glade near its peak where white jasmine bloomed only in the light of the moon, and caves down near the shore where cyan and cerulean stalactites dripped down from the belly of the island to cast glittering ripples across the rocky surface.

His dragon remained a constant, raging maelstrom inside him, furious to break free, but Castiel managed to keep it locked down. He'd found a musical instrument among the sunken treasures, and when he played it, the music would help calm his inner beast, lulling the dragon to sleep with a lilting lullaby.

And so Castiel, too, was lulled into a state of serenity, and he began to feel…happiness. He enjoyed Meg's company.

His joy was tempered, though, with the knowledge that one day she would leave. Her brother had yet to come, but Meg seemed to hold a conviction that he would, eventually. Castiel grew more and more sorrowful at the prospect that she would soon depart, but he knew he shouldn't selfishly hope for her to stay.

It was a warm afternoon, and they had gone down to the beach to wash their clothes in one of the fresh water tributaries. Or, well, Castiel was doing the washing. Meg was sitting on the sand, idly playing with a kite shaped like a bird that she had found and repaired. Yet every time she tossed it into the air, it nose-dived.

"Stupid thing," she remarked sullenly.

Castiel glanced over at her. "You're doing it incorrectly."

She shot him a scowl. "There's no wind to make it fly."

He canted his head in confusion. "Of course there's wind. Can't you see it?"

Meg barked out a laugh. "Of course not. You can't see the wind."

"I can."

Meg looked doubtful, but then gave him a sultry smile. "Alright then. Can you show me how to 'see' the wind?"

Castiel couldn't tell if she was goading him or genuinely asking, not to mention he found the request strange. Seeing the wind was as natural as seeing the waves lapping at the shore. How could he show her?

He shifted awkwardly at first, but then went to grab a fistful of flower petals Meg had gathered in a basket to take back up to the cave for their fragrance. He moved back a pace and centered himself. Tilting his head up to watch the currents, he waited until the right moment to open his hand and let the petals fall. The wind caught them, carrying them back up and around in gentle spirals of plum and mulberry.

Meg's expression slackened in wonder, and her mouth slowly curved upward into a smile that reached her eyes. She set the kite down and stood, taking a step forward into the circle of wind and pressing close to Castiel. So close that he felt the heat radiating from her skin. And a part of him desperately yearned to reach out, to feel the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her cheek.

But he knew the consequences if he did. And so after a long, tense moment, he stepped back. The wind current arced higher, carrying the petals away.

Meg's eyes almost seemed to hold the same desire and regret, but also understanding, and without a word she returned to sitting on the beach with her kite while Castiel turned back to finish the laundry.

Perhaps it was better if her brother came soon. Castiel didn't know how much longer he could resist the dragon—or his own heart.

—\\_/—

After many harried days and nights at sea, the crew finally spotted land through a shroud of mist, an island that looked unfamiliar to those who had traversed a vast amount of the ocean. A lost isle of dragons, perhaps? Sam didn't spot any of the great winged beasts circling the large mountain on one end of the island. Maybe it was just the one that had come to the village.

They laid anchor in the shoals and Dean told the men to stay put, that he and Sam would go ashore and look around. No one was keen to argue. They were sailors and fishermen, not hunters like the Winchesters.

Sam and Dean jumped down into the shallows, their boots splashing in the aquamarine water. Armed with swords and knives, they ventured onto the island, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for the dragon. It was eerily quiet, like no other animals lived here. For good reason.

"Thing's probably nested somewhere up on the mountain," Dean speculated.

Sam raised his eyes up toward the craggy formation, jagged peaks looking foreboding as they poked through tendrils of ghostly fog. He'd been to some harrowing dens in his time hunting monsters, but the prospect of sneaking up on a sleeping dragon made his blood turn to ice.

Nevertheless, they started the climb. There was a lot of ground to cover, though, and as the terrain became steeper, they silently agreed to split up in search of a cave or something a dragon might make a nest in.

Sam skirted the edge of the mountainside. The view was breathtaking this far up, not that he could allow himself much time to appreciate it. There seemed to be a well-worn path weaving its way around the mountain, and Sam followed it curiously.

A high-pitched chitter was his only warning before something crashed into him from above, sending him sprawling across the ground. He heard a growl and skittering of claws, and immediately whipped out his knife as he rolled into a crouch. A hideous creature unlike any he'd ever seen stood across from him, head hunched low and fangs bared. A tail flicked back and forth behind it, hind muscles rippling with the anticipation of striking. Sam adjusted his grip on his knife.

A flash of its yellow eyes telegraphed its attack, and Sam dove to the side, swiping out with his blade at the same moment. He missed, and the beast circled around again, snarling viciously.

Sam sidestepped to keep it in front of him. The thing growled and feinted another attack, darting forward and back quickly, but the movement was enough to make Sam jerk backward a step—and his foot slipped off the edge of the cliff.

His stomach lurched into his throat as he slid off the ledge, dropping the knife as he frantically scrabbled to catch himself. One hand snagged an exposed root and halted his fall, while the fingers of his other hand found purchase in the rock face. He clung to them, wind whipping around him as the several-hundred-foot drop loomed beneath his flailing legs. He managed to get a boot onto a small cleft, but now he was stuck.

And the monster was above him.

Sam heard a deep rumble and craned his head back enough to see the creature peering over the edge. He was within reach of a swipe of claws.

"No!" a voice shouted.

For a moment, Sam thought it was his brother, but the texture was all wrong—too deep and gravelly.

The beast disappeared from the edge, and a moment later a man appeared. He immediately dropped down onto his stomach and leaned over to reach for Sam's hand.

Sam gritted his teeth as he fought to hang on. Even when his would-be rescuer wrapped a firm grip around his wrist, it would still take a lot of leverage to lift him up.

The man paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. "Go back," he said.

In the back of his mind, Sam had to wonder if the guy was talking to the thing that had attacked him. He didn't hear any more chittering or growling, nor had he heard a death cry of the animal being slain. But that wasn't important at the moment. The silt around his purchase was crumbling and he was slipping.

The man reached down with both hands to hold onto him, but he was obviously straining just to keep Sam from falling.

Dean's harried voice suddenly echoed from above, and out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw his brother come running up the edge of the path. Dean skidded to a halt at the sight of them, eyes instantly hardening with suspicion and the promise of retribution for his little brother being in danger. Dean wasn't one to ask questions first.

Yet despite the man with the sword bearing down on him, the stranger didn't let go of Sam in order to jump up and defend himself, but continued to inch even further over the edge of the cliff to get a better grip. Sam thought they were both going to end up falling, but gradually he started to rise an inch, and in so doing, he found a better foothold in the scarp. With one final surge of strength, the man heaved him up and over the ledge where they both immediately collapsed onto the ground.

Dean rushed to Sam's side and dropped down next to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said breathlessly, and lifted his gaze to his savior. "Thanks."

The dark-haired man stood slowly and backed up several paces, his mouth set in a tense line. "Have you come for Meg?" he asked.

Sam quirked a puzzled brow at him. That was a weird question to ask people on a first meeting.

"Wait," he sputtered. " _Meg_ , as in the _demon_? She's still alive?"

That had been her name, Sam remembered. He hadn't even considered the possibility that she would have survived the dragon taking her.

The guy's brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could respond, said demon herself came striding down the path, brandishing a crossbow.

Dean leaped to his feet, sword still in hand, and Sam scrambled upright, but didn't have a chance to draw his own weapon before she was aiming hers at them.

"Back off," she warned.

Dean glowered at her, but didn't drop his sword. "So the dragon didn't kill you, huh? What, you too sour for its taste?"

Unlike when they'd first caught her and she returned every quip with a barb of her own, this time her voice stayed low and deadly. "Turn around and leave this island. Now."

Sam was honestly stunned. They'd come here searching for a dragon, and so far hadn't found it. He'd almost died, been saved by a stranger, and now a demon was telling them to leave rather than trying to kill them outright.

"Meg," the man spoke up softly. "Maybe they can be your way off the island."

"They're hunters," she said bitingly. "They'd rather kill me. Besides, they're not here for me; they're here for the dragon."

The man's eyes widened a fraction in understanding.

"Where is the dragon?" Sam couldn't help but ask. "And how are you living on an island with it? Wouldn't it constantly be attacking you?" He glanced over his shoulder at the slope and beach. "There doesn't look to be many places to hide."

"It doesn't attack without provocation," Meg rejoined. "And if you don't leave now, you just might make it angry."

"We're not going anywhere," Dean said, still gripping his sword threateningly.

The man—dressed in a simple shirt and trousers and the only one of them not armed—cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should invite them inside for some food and drink," he suggested. "They've obviously come a long way and must be tired from the hike."

Sam blinked, taken aback by the casual offer in the midst of what was obviously a standoff.

Meg shot him a bewildered look. "Why the hell would we do that? Did you not hear me when I said they're _hunters_?"

"Because it's the human thing to do," he replied.

Sam was bewildered, and Dean shifted his weight, suddenly looking lost as well. But whatever was going on here, one thing was clear—this guy had saved Sam's life.

"That'd be nice," he said, jumping in before Dean or Meg could escalate tensions.

The man smiled. It was small and tentative, but sincere.

Meg appeared to be fuming, but she slowly started to lower her crossbow. "You gonna put your sword away, slayer?"

Dean snorted, but Sam shot him a pointed look. He really wanted some answers and the only way to get them was to play nice.

Scowling, Dean sheathed his blade.

"This way," the man said, and started leading them up the path, which Sam now realized was an actual path.

Meg frequently cast dark looks over her shoulder, but didn't make a move against them, and they soon arrived at a large cave with a small, makeshift dwelling in the back corner lined with mats, and a cooking area off to the side.

The man walked to a pitcher and poured some water into two wooden cups, then brought them over to the Winchesters. "My name is Castiel," he said.

"I'm Sam, and this is my brother Dean," Sam replied, giving a nod of thanks as he took the cup.

"The ones who tried to burn me at the stake," Meg put in sourly.

Castiel paused, looking like a deer startled in a thicket. "Oh," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "I hope you won't try that again here. It would be…rude, after all."

Sam thought this guy was strange, but who knew how long he'd been living on this island, which seemed empty of any other inhabitants. Had he been shipwrecked? But what about the dragon?

"How are you still alive?" Dean asked abruptly, glaring at Meg.

"Yeah," Sam added. "Where's the dragon?" He looked around the cave. "I mean, this looks like it could be its lair, and yet you're here, out in the open…"

"The dragon won't hurt you," Castiel said confidently. "And as long as your people _never_ sing the Ritual Song again, it will never return to your borders."

Sam straightened. "So I was right, it was the song." He quirked a brow. "But how would you know that?"

Castiel averted his gaze. "I just do."

"Can't risk it," Dean said. "The dragon's a monster and needs to be put down."

"No, he doesn't," Meg snapped, hand going to the crossbow again.

Dean's eyes flashed darkly, his own hand landing on the hilt of his sword, though he didn't draw yet.

Sam frowned at her. Why was she defending the dragon? Wait… 'he'? Sam's eyes blew wide with a jolt of suspicion as he glanced between Meg and Castiel. "Wait," he spluttered. " _You're_ the dragon?"

It didn't make sense. Well, it did, because there was no sign of the fire-breathing beast and Meg hadn't been devoured by it, but this guy looked like a man, not a scaly monster with wings.

Castiel lowered his eyes to the floor, not denying it.

Sam saw his brother immediately stiffen, hand tightening on his sword hilt. Sam was stupefied, too, but he managed to keep some measure of level-headedness, and grabbed Dean's arm to stay his hand.

"I don't understand. How are _you_ the dragon?"

Castiel slowly raised a hand and pressed it to his chest. "The dragon is within me. I keep him suppressed most of the time, but when he does break free, there is a crevice in the back of the cave large enough for a man to fit inside, but too tight for a dragon to get out of. When I feel the change coming, I always go there, to keep the dragon from leaving the island."

Sam's brows rose in dismay. Dragons were shapeshifters?

Castiel's expression turned aggrieved. "But when I heard the Song, it was so powerful, and I couldn't make it to the cave in time." He turned earnest eyes filled with anguish toward them. "You must make sure your people _never_ sing it again."

"I know another way to make sure it doesn't happen again," Dean said in a low tone.

Sam tensed, and shot his brother a scathing look. Yes, they'd come here to hunt the dragon, but given what they'd discovered, could Dean take a step back and reevaluate, _for once_?

Castiel gazed back at him solemnly, apparently unmoved by the threat. "If you feel that is necessary," he said softly.

"Over my dead body," Meg interrupted.

Castiel flicked an almost fond look at her, then turned back to the Winchesters. "I would ask that you forgive Meg for the crime she committed in your village. It was self-defense. I'm sure if you take her away from the island and let her go free, she will never bother your lands again."

Sam was taken aback once again, and even Meg's mouth had parted slightly at the heartfelt plea as she gaped at Castiel.

Dean's expression remained like granite, but Sam still had a hand on his arm, keeping him from making any sudden movements.

"Uh, can you give us a minute?" Sam said, tugging his brother back toward the cave entrance. Even with the distance, he kept his voice low. "Maybe we had this all wrong."

"If this guy is the dragon, then we have it all right," Dean countered. "And we can finish the job on the demon while we're at it."

"We can't just kill him," Sam argued. "He hasn't done anything. He sounds more cursed than evil."

"Same thing."

Sam huffed in consternation at his brother's dogmatic pigheadedness. "He saved my life. And I was right about the Ritual Song being the thing that brought the dragon down on us. If it wasn't for that, Castiel would have continued keeping the dragon locked away."

Dean scoffed. "And you trust him to keep doing it? What if he doesn't make it to his cage in time?"

"He's done a pretty good job all these years." Sam crossed his arms. "He could have let me fall earlier. And he was just in there pleading for us to rescue Meg from this island. He didn't even say he'd resist if we _did_ try to kill him. Which, by the way, I'm not gonna do, just sayin' right now."

Dean scowled. "Fine. You want to leave the dragon alone, we can do that. But if it comes back and attacks one town, I swear to God, Sam…"

"Then we'll deal with it," he finished stiffly. "But can we punish those who've actually done something wrong, and not just because they might?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

Sam took a deep breath, knowing his brother was going to blow his top at the next thing he had to say. "And I think we should consider taking Meg with us."

Sure enough, Dean's brows shot upward to his hairline. "Excuse me?"

"We know exactly what happened with the man she killed behind the tavern. If she'd been a regular human and not a demon, we wouldn't have tried to execute her. Hell, if she hadn't killed the guy and he'd done what he'd intended, we would have stoned him instead!"

Dean just continued to look flabbergasted. "But she _is_ a demon!"

"Maybe she can try to be better," Sam urged. The fact that she was defending Castiel to them had to speak for something.

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Maybe I want to believe there's good in everyone, even those tainted by something evil. Did you ever think of that?"

Dean hesitated, mouth thinning into a tight line.

They didn't talk about the night the demon fed a six-month-old Sam its blood, the night their mom had died and their home burned down. The night their father had sworn vengeance on all monsters and began to train his sons to fight them as well. The family trade.

And Sam tried not to think about what it meant to have demon blood inside him, tried not to think about how their father had told Dean that if Sam turned evil, Dean would have to kill him.

Sam spent every waking moment of his life fighting for good in order for that not to happen. In a way, he could understand Castiel. And maybe Meg.

Dean stepped away, running a hand down his face. "Fine," he eventually said gruffly. "But I'm sleeping with a knife under my pillow until she's gone."

"You do that anyway," Sam replied, but he was relieved.

They went back inside where Castiel and Meg were waiting, the man standing somberly near the wide mouth of the cave while the demon paced in obvious agitation.

"Yeah, we'll give you a ride off the island," Dean said brusquely.

Meg narrowed her eyes skeptically at them. "Really? This isn't some ploy so you can toss me overboard halfway out to sea?"

"Don't tempt me," Dean grumbled.

"We promise," Sam interjected. "You can go free once we reach the mainland. But…no guarantees if we run into each other again down the road."

Meg smirked. "Ditto."

She turned to Castiel then, who looked at her with such grave sadness that Sam was struck by it, and he watched in bemusement as they moved to a mere breadth's from each other, yet didn't reach out to make contact.

"I wish you well," Castiel said.

"You too." Meg opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it. Without another word, she turned from him and walked away.

Sam nodded respectfully to Castiel and then followed, Dean right behind him.

As they made their way down the mountain, Sam couldn't help but notice how subdued Meg looked. It seemed she'd grown to care for Castiel in some way. Another thing that didn't make her a normal demon.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

Her expression instantly hardened. "Just a little on edge about whether you'll keep your promise," she snapped.

Sam dropped the matter, and they continued the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached the beach, they pulled up short at the sight of a short man in black clothes, with tendrils of red smoke curling faintly around him.

"Hallo, boys," he greeted in a chipper accent, then turned to Meg. "Whore."

"Crowley," she growled, eyes flicking to black.

His turned an opaque shade of crimson in response. "I got your message, pet. Or, well, after your brother traded it to me for some nice real estate in Hell proper."

"Why?" she bit out.

Sam exchanged a tense look with Dean, both of their hands drifting toward their sword hilts, though only one of their knives had spellwork that could actually kill a demon.

The red-eyed demon grinned. "The news of a dragon being alive is something I couldn't pass up. Imagine the prize that would be to have in Hell."

Meg surged forward. "You stay away from him."

The demon flicked his wrist, and suddenly they were all flung backward through the air. Sam landed on his back in the sand, winded for a moment.

This Crowley sauntered over and leered down at Meg. "I was going to offer you a deal for helping me capture it, but it seems there might be another way to bring the beast down here."

Before Sam or Dean could regain their feet, smoke whipped out from the demon and curled around them, forming into ropes that firmly bound them as though they were solid chains.

Meg struggled, cheeks puffing red with exertion and fury. The demon cackled with anticipation, and Sam looked back up toward the mountain in dread.


	4. Part IV

Part IV

Dean squirmed as he tried to work free of his bindings, but to no avail. Though tenebrous in shape, the smoky ropes were still constricting, and the harder Dean struggled, the tighter they squeezed. He eventually stopped so he could suck in a ragged breath.

The demon, Crowley, was currently carrying a small ceramic jug and pouring a treacly clear liquid into a large circle on the sand. Dean detected the tang of holy oil.

Once the ring was complete, Crowley set the jug down and went over to grab Meg by her hair, and dragged her over to one side of the circle, careful to remain outside it. He yanked her head back, exposing her throat, and drew out a serrated knife.

"Now, scream for me, darling. Nice and loud so your dragon hears you."

Meg glared at him defiantly, and gritted her teeth against a strangled cry as Crowley began to carve the tip of the blade down her neck to her collar bone, drawing forth a thin trickle of blood.

"Go to Hell," she spat.

"Would love to," the demon replied blithely. "But not without my prize. Now, call for the dragon." He dug the knife's tip into her shoulder and torqued it, finally eliciting a scream.

Dean didn't see how torturing Meg was supposed to get the dragon's attention. If anything, hearing her scream would alert him to danger on his island, and the winged beast just might burst free in order to defend it. Was Crowley stupid?

Meg was obviously struggling not to cry out, but the knife Crowley was using had some kind of rune work on the blade, and it was glowing red as it made each slice. A gut-wrenching scream rent the air.

Dean glanced down the beach. Their ship was just around the bend in the shoals. He wondered what it would take for the crew to come investigate…or if they'd weigh anchor and flee at the sounds echoing down the shoreline. Dean expected a dragon's roar to shake the island any second, and was shocked when Castiel the man appeared running down the path toward the beach.

"No, don't!" Sam tried to shout in warning, but it was too late. Castiel had run straight into the circle of holy oil, and with a flash of the demon's red eyes, Crowley lit the ring on fire.

Flames whooshed up around Castiel, trapping him. Their divine heat would sear the flesh off anything accursed, including dragons. Castiel whipped his gaze around at the flames in bewilderment, then a trace of fear. But all of that was overridden with worry when his eyes settled on Meg, bound and on her knees in the sand with Crowley holding a fistful of her hair.

"Meg," Castiel breathed.

Crowley's face cracked into a grin. "As I suspected. So you're the dragon." He roved his gaze up and down the man in the ring of fire. "Interesting visage."

Castiel drew his shoulders back. "What do you want?"

The demon's eyes glinted, and he let go of Meg in order to reach into his coat. He drew out a metal collar and chain. "You."

Castiel gazed at him in confusion.

Crowley huffed. "Submit to me, or I will continue to cut Meg here to pieces." He twirled his dagger, laying the tip against her cheek.

Castiel went rigid. "Don't!"

Crowley paused. "Will you surrender?" he asked, holding up the collar.

Dean watched with bated breath as Castiel's throat bobbed.

"If I submit," he said slowly. "Will you let Meg go? Will you let all of them go?"

Dean blinked at Sam and him being included. They'd been little more than bound spectators this whole time, not that Dean didn't expect the demon to kill them when he was finished. And why should Castiel care what happened to them?

"Don't do it, Castiel!" Meg shouted.

Crowley planted his boot against her back and shoved her face first into the sand. He held the collar out. "Their freedom for yours."

Castiel's eyes wavered, but he nodded. Crowley opened his hand, and the collar floated through the air, over the flames and into the circle, stopping just in front of Castiel and hovering. Castiel gazed at it with loathing and fear.

"Or I could make Meg scream again," Crowley prompted.

A muscle in Castiel's jaw ticked, and he staunchly reached out to grab the collar. Closing his eyes in abject defeat, he snapped it around his neck. Runes etched into the metal immediately began to glow, and Castiel's eyes shot open as he threw his head back with a scream. He clawed at his neck, inhuman sounds tearing from his throat.

Dean watched in horror as fulvous lines spread down through Castiel's veins like molten fire from within. His chest began to glow, skin cracking into fiery fissures. And then with an explosion of sparks, the dragon ripped itself out from the man's flesh. The concussive force extinguished the holy fire and buffeted Dean's face with a gust of hot air. How could he ever have thought this wasn't a hideous monster?

The dragon thrashed and screeched, but Crowley gave the chain he was holding a sharp yank, jerking the dragon's head to the ground. The collar flared again, and the beast settled into smaller twitches and writhing. Dean caught a glimpse of blue eyes filled with anguish.

"Marvelous," Crowley breathed as he approached the beast. The dragon tried to flinch away, but another tug of the chain kept its head bowed low. A deep keen rumbled in its chest, and its gaze flicked to Meg, who was kneeling in the sand, eyes wide.

Crowley turned back to the three of them. "A deal is a deal." He snapped his fingers, and in the next instant, the smoky bonds were gone, and Dean found himself on the shore where the ship was anchored, Sam and Meg with him.

Meg immediately jumped to her feet. "We have to go back!"

Dean pushed himself up and brushed his pants off. "Excuse me?"

"We have to save Castiel. Crowley has to create a portal in order to transport them back to Hell, so there's still time to stop him."

Dean just gave her a dubious look. "It's a dragon. Maybe Hell is where it should be."

"Dean," Sam said, sounding affronted.

Meg's cheeks puffed red, and she took a step forward to shove him hard. "Then give me a sword and I'll save him myself."

"Why do you even care?" Dean snapped. When had his world turned upside down where his brother wanted to spare a dragon and help a demon?

Meg hesitated, but then lifted her chin. "Because I do. Look, I know I'm just a lowly demon in your eyes, but Castiel has never hurt anyone. Even when his dragon was triggered to kidnap me—because of _your_ song, remember—he did everything in his power to keep the dragon from actually hurting me. I am not going to leave him to be taken to Hell and reduced to one of Crowley's pets. Now are you going to help me or not?"

Dean had half a mind to say she could have at it, and then they could leave this island without her. But her heartfelt declaration oddly moved him, if only because it was very un-demon like. Not to mention that even though what Dean had witnessed on that beach was horrific, he couldn't completely forget the image of that awkward guy named Castiel who'd beseeched them to take Meg away, despite him apparently having feelings for her. And when she was in trouble, he came running, and sacrificed himself to save her. To save _all_ of them.

"I'll help you," Sam spoke up.

Dean shot his brother a disbelieving scowl. Seriously?

Sam just gave him a pointed look, and okay, maybe Dean was already leaning toward helping her. What was he coming to?

"Fine," Dean said gruffly. He undid one of his sword belts and passed Meg the twenty-inch blade.

She took it soberly.

Then the three of them turned and headed back up the beach to hopefully stop a very powerful demon and rescue a _dragon_.

—\\_/—

Meg's blood was boiling with fierce determination as she marched across the sand. A part of her couldn't believe she was working side by side with _hunters_ , of all people, but she'd do anything to save Castiel. He had been nothing but kind to her and didn't deserve to be taken to Hell and imprisoned. Especially by Crowley.

It didn't take long for the trio to round the bend toward where they'd been ambushed by the current King of Hell. Sure enough, Crowley was still there, waving his hand back and forth slowly as he drew an intricate sigil in the sand. Several feet behind was the dragon, now pinned down by multiple chains lashed over his back and wings, the metal glowing red and looking like they were causing him pain.

Furious, Meg started forward, but Dean grabbed her arm.

"We need a plan."

She raised her short sword. "Plan is I kill Crowley."

He just gave her and the blade a dry look. "With that?"

Meg bit back a response. She knew the blade wouldn't inflict any real damage on a powerful demon, and with her wounds still healing, she wasn't up to a full-on fight yet.

"You have a better idea?" she snapped impatiently.

Sam wordlessly drew out a knife, this one with a jagged blade and rune work that made Meg's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Where did you get that?"

"Not important," Dean said. "We'll take care of Crowley; you get to Castiel."

Meg would have loved nothing more than to stab that traitorous usurper in the throat, but she also wanted to get those wretched chains off Castiel, so she agreed. "Let's go save my dragon."

They split up. Meg crept along the water's edge, slinking around rocks to come up behind Castiel, while the Winchester brothers branched off to attack Crowley head on. Of course, there wasn't exactly cover for them.

Crowley paused in his task and angled a mildly surprised look at the two hunters. "Something I can do for you boys?"

Dean briefly raised his eyes toward the heavens as though he couldn't believe what he was doing. "Yeah," he said. "You can let the dragon go."

Crowley arched a disbelieving brow. "Don't tell me you also developed a bleeding heart for the beast." He barked out a laugh. "Who would have ever believed, the infamous Winchesters growing soft."

"We're not gonna let you take him," Sam spoke up boldly.

Crowley scoffed. "You're way out of your league, boys. I'm the King of Hell."

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "I've never killed a demon king before."

He arched his arm back and threw one of his knives, the tip flying end over end through the air before striking Crowley in the chest. Of course, it did little but enrage the demon, and with a flick of his wrist, Crowley sent the Winchesters flying.

Meg took the moment of chaos to dart in to Castiel, trying to catch his eye and praying for recognition. The dragon was thrashing violently against the unyielding chains, but when she came around his head, there was a glimmer in the blue irises that cried out with anguish.

Meg raised her short sword and brought it down on one of the chains with a metallic clang. The link broke, and one of the massive wings snapped free. The dragon stretched and strained harder with that inch of freedom, keening as the rest of the chains continued to bite into him.

"Hold on, hold on," she urged. "I'm getting it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dean attack Crowley with his sword and stab the demon, then get knocked down. Sam lunged, but was tossed aside easily. She should help them, but after she freed Castiel.

She swung her sword down on the next chain, sparks flying at the collision. The link only dented, so she raised her blade to strike it again.

A pressure closed around her throat, and the sword dropped from her hands as she shot them up to clutch at her neck. Gasping, she half turned to find Crowley bearing down on her, hand outstretched and fingers crooked in a claw-like fashion. His eyes were blazing red.

"You had your chance, whore," he spat venomously. "Now you'll get a rack like you deserve."

The dragon tried to rear its head back, letting out a raging bellow. Crowley snapped his attention to it, the chains flaring brighter. The dragon shrieked and thrashed, kicking up sprays of sand as it writhed in place.

Tears sprang to Meg's eyes, partly from choking, partly from the sight of Castiel in agony. This was all her fault. If she hadn't sent that message to Tom, hadn't trusted him with what she should have known would be valuable information, none of this would be happening.

Despair like she had never known seized her heart. And then like a hero of the old tales, Sam Winchester came leaping toward them, and plunged the spelled knife into Crowley's back.

The King of Hell jerked as his body went rigid, eyes blowing wide. Orange light flashed throughout him like hellfire ignited from within.

Meg gasped as her air flow was suddenly restored, and she watched in amazement as Crowley shook in a series of spastic death throes until he finally crumpled to the ground in a boneless, smoking heap.

Meg rubbed her throat. "Long live the king," she said, spitting on the corpse. That was for her father. And for Castiel.

Remembering him, Meg snatched up her sword and swung with all her might, breaking the center link of the remaining chains. With a resounding crack, they broke apart, iron sliding off the great dragon's back. Then Meg stepped in and grabbed the heinous collar, pulling it apart and freeing him completely.

The dragon reared up with an ear-shattering roar that almost knocked her down. Before Meg could process what was happening, the dragon leaped into the air, talons wrapping around her torso and plucking her off the ground. She heard Sam and Dean shouting after her as the dragon gave a massive flap of its wings and ascended into the air. It carried her up and up, back to the cave, where it swooped in and dropped her onto the flat rock against the side wall.

The sacrificial altar.

The dragon loomed over her, hovering, its belly beginning to glow with fulvous fire that spread up its neck and into its eyes.

Meg knew what the dragon intended, and yet she did not scream or try to scramble away. Instead, she surged upright and grabbed the dragon's angular face, pressing her lips to its snout.

The dragon choked on its fire and jerked back, flailing in obvious shock as it scrabbled away from her.

Meg slid off the altar. "All you've known is people's hatred and fear," she said, moving closer. "But I'm not afraid of you."

The dragon twisted and backed up until it was pressed against the opposite wall as though pinned by her tiny presence. She closed the distance.

"I love you."

The dragon was heaving, but ever so slowly, the hellish illumination in his eyes faded, replaced with the dazzling blue. He lowered his head down to the floor, and Meg reached out to place her hand on his crown.

"Perhaps you should stay in this form for a little while," she suggested. "I showed you how to be human. Now I'll show you how to be just you."

She moved around to the side a little and sat, drawing the dragon's head down to rest in her lap. And gradually his breathing evened out and he closed his eyes as he turned his head into her chest. She stroked her hand down the length of his neck.

"Are you hurt?" she asked. "Those chains looked painful."

He opened one eye, gaze filled with haunted memory, but then gave the tiniest shake of his head.

Meg continued to caress his saurian form, marveling at how beautiful he was, how sleek his muscles were, how his obsidian scales carried scintillating streaks of iridescent colors. She'd never gotten the chance to appreciate it before.

A short while later, the Winchesters came bursting into the cave, swords raised. They pulled up short at the sight of them, however.

Meg felt Castiel tense at their arrival, but she laid a gentle hand on his head. "Shh. They're friends, remember?"

The dragon blinked, and then settled.

"Uh," Sam said, breaths heavy from what must have been a harried run all the way up the mountain. He cast them both a dubious look. "You two okay?"

"We're fine," she replied. She looked down to meet Castiel's eyes. "Everything's going to be fine."

—\\_/—

Castiel, back in his human form, stood on the beach with Meg at his side as they bid farewell to the Winchesters.

"You sure about this?" Sam asked her.

She had her arm around Castiel's waist, her touch no longer a trigger for his dragon, but an anchor. She tilted her head back to look up at him. "I'm sure."

Castiel's heart swelled with boundless joy that she had chosen to stay. With him.

"Thank you, for everything," he said to the Winchesters.

Sam gave him a warm smile. "We'll make sure no one sings the Ritual Song again," he promised.

Castiel nodded his thanks, though a part of him felt, deep down, that it wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Dean shuffled his foot in the sand. "Well, take care," he said awkwardly.

Meg smirked. "You too, slayer."

With a final wave of goodbye, the brothers turned and headed back to their ship. Castiel hugged Meg closer as they watched it veer back out toward open sea, disappearing into tendrils of mist. Then they made their way back up the mountain that would now be their home, together.

On the ledge of the cave's wide mouth, Meg stood in front of Castiel and slowly arched up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Fire burst in his belly, but not the kind that signaled an eruption of his beast. No, this was warm and invigorating. So much passion and love wrapped in such a thorny beauty. Castiel kissed back ardently.

When they broke apart, Meg tilted her head up and whispered, "Show me the wind."

And Castiel closed his eyes, letting the dragon rise to the surface like a phoenix from the ashes. Fire tingled along his skin, embers flickering away as brawn and scales replaced muscle and flesh.

He lifted his saurian head as Meg stepped in to wrap her arms around his neck in a gentle embrace his kind had forgotten how to receive. And then she mounted his back, nestled between his wings as he spread them out, joy and freedom singing in his veins. And with a great flap, he stepped off the edge and into the wind, following their currents into the setting sun.

* * *

 **A/N: And they lived happily ever after. ^_^ My queue has run low again. I've got some one shots for next week, and hopefully I'll get more writing done in the meantime. Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed!**


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